


Alone in the Darkness

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angel OCs - Freeform, Blood and Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon OCs - Freeform, Destruction, Gen, Minor Character Death, My Take on The Darkness, My take on season 11, OCs - Freeform, Tags May Change, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Darkness: Another possibly world ending ‘Big Bad’ with no way of stopping it. The Winchesters and friends tackle enemies old and new as they try to save the realms from certain destruction. New characters come to play while friendships develop and end in this season 11 AU. Can the world be saved from the Darkness?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Left behind with only ashes

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic on this website. Will be updating whenever possible. Probably once a week, once I brush up some of the later chapters. I'm not the best at finishing long fanfics or keeping a constant update plan... just be pre-warned. Anyway, enjoy. I hope you enjoy my idea for season 11. Starts just where the season was left off.

The angel’s eyes were haloed with blood, red and enraged. They glared at Crowley with sudden hatred and hunger, they hungered for him. The demon, fixed in place with magic, stared with wide eyes as the now animalistic version of the angel that had been Castiel only moments before, grunting as it stood. Rowena, grinning cruelly, walked up the stairs and away from the scene about to play out; leaving the demon and angel-turned-monster alone.

Castiel’s angel blade fell into his waiting hand as feral growls emanated from his throat.

“Castiel. _Don’t…_ ” Crowley muttered lowly, eyeing the weapon.

The angel lumbered forward, with the untamed grace of a beast no less, raising his blade high to strike down the trapped demon.

“Do. Not!” He implored the angel hidden beneath the overpowering ‘attack dog’ spell, but the beast still kept advancing.  

He prepared to lunge forward, blade about to sweep down with a fierce growl.

“Don’t!” He pleaded, yet it was too late, the angel was long gone now. The angel was locked away and had no control over his body at all.

The beast grunted, finally leaping with full force. “ _Please!_ ” He shouted, a hint of true fright in his voice, it had been so long since he had felt such an emotion. His cries however were unheard or rather ignored as the blade stabbed down, aiming for his chest.

Though ensnared on the spot the demon managed to deflect the attack enough so the blade sliced his upper arm instead. The cut stung as blood dripped from his arm and dread washed over him when the wild beast snarled at missing his mark, swinging his arm around for a second attack. It missed again as the demon grabbed a hold of his wrist before the blade pierced his own flesh once more, the animal roared, pushing forward with all its strength.

The blade inched closer. The demon was weakened, still trapped; the blade touched the fabric of his jacket just above his heart. Another shove, both of the beast’s hands gripping the blade now, pushing harder and harder, it cut through his layers of clothing and nicked his skin underneath. It burned against the metallic touch of the angelic blade.

The demon wrestled but the brutish angel’s strength was overwhelming. He looked upon his would-be executioners face: ocean blue irises ringed with red, blood dripping down his cheeks like crimson tears and a snarl so ghastly, it put his own to shame. He felt his sweaty hands wane in grip and the beast took advantage.

 The blade surging forward, now piercing his flesh. He gasped, looking down at the weapon, it was sticking out of his chest. Blood seeping from the wound as he stared with terror, waiting for the blade to sink deeper and finally end him…

So many attempts on his life, so many times he had almost died in his three hundred or so years as a demon and he was to die at the hands of a weak minded angel…? One overpowered by a witch's spell? Cast by his mother of all people? This was not how he ever expected his death. It wasn’t right. _It wasn’t fair._

The blade didn’t sink any further, it had not punctured him enough to do much damage, other than singeing pain, but if he wasn’t careful it would very soon. Pain and hatred tore at his essence and it fuelled his strength. He was the King of Hell, he would not die at the hand of his own mother’s spell. He propelled the brute backwards, the beast lost balance stumbling into the wall, the weapon falling out of his grasp.

The angel ignored it choosing to charge instead. His body collided with the demon and they collapsed to the floor in a heap, the demon’s snare breaking from the force. They skid across the floor, in a tangle of punches, scratches and more. The animalistic angel straddled the demon, clawing at his face and grabbing for his throat. Crowley was glad the blade was away but he was still unsure if he would make it out alive at this rate.

A fist crashed into his jaw, threatening to break it, and nails dug harshly into his throat. The snarling beast had no remorse, the hunger burned bright in his eyes, he just wanted to kill… he wanted blood… He wanted Crowley’s blood. The demon tried valiantly to stop the brute, but feared he might have to retreat.

He willed himself away from the angel.

Only to find his powers had been weakened from the entrapment spell. He hadn’t moved _an inch_. He gulped.

His air supply was abruptly cut off by a vicious vice-like grip on his neck while he concentrated stopping the other hand clawing out his eyes. The hand escaped his, nails ripping into the flesh of his cheek and a silent cry pushed through his blue lips.

“Castiel! Stop!” He shouted when no other ideas filled his mind. His powers were useless. He couldn’t reach a weapon.

The angel did not reply; the beast only roared. The King tugged on the hand on his throat, dark spots were plaguing his vision. Demons didn’t necessarily need to breathe, but it helped a vessel and while powerless it was vital. A vessel worked better with air in its lungs after all. He could feel the colour flushing from his face as he could not breathe, his vessel was blacking out and his consciousness with it. Alarm tugged at his mind, he knew if he blacked out now he would never awaken.

“ _Cas…_!” He squeaked out breathlessly, startled how high his voice went with the plea. The monster just grinned as it now summoned angel blade back, raising it high once again.

An idea hit him. Something he was unsure would work with how sapped of strength he was: he attempted to escape his meat suit. He knew if Rowena had been thorough with her spell, he would not be able to and he was about to die. He hoped to all that was holy that she hadn’t.

The blade plunged down, aiming for his neck this time. If it hit, it would be game over.

To his ultimate surprise, he found he could escape and promptly did. With all the power and speed he could muster, he pushed his essence out of his meat suit, crimson smoke bellowing out of the vessel’s mouth. The blade hit the throat, stabbing all the way through until it clanged against the concrete floor. Blood poured from the wound and the brute didn’t stop, stabbing down again and again and again… Blood caking his face, skin and clothing like an obscene red paintwork.

The red smoke of Crowley’s being swirled up hitting the ceiling and when the angel finally looked up from the massacred corpse below, he clambered to his feet, brandishing the angel blade at the ceiling. It did little to the smoke form. The cloud whirled around the animalistic angel before swiftly forced itself down the throat of the already possessed vessel. He did it on a whim, unsure what would actually happen when he possessed Castiel’s vessel. Yet, he had double possessed someone before so was slightly confident he could succeed.

The body collapsed to the ground, twitching and thrashing, both the spell and angelic grace fighting against the invading demonic presence. Crowley searched through the vessel for Castiel’s consciousness, hoping he could beat back the spell to uncover the trapped angel within. However, the spell had seized the mind of the angel tight, curling around him like a python and squeezing him out, the demon fought hard to take control; near impossible resistance every step of the way. The spell fought him as if he was a virus… Pushing him back out and attempting to continue to control the spasming vessel. He wrestled with all the energy he could gather, constantly battling back to relinquish control for Castiel. He travelled deep within the spell ensnared mind and found the angel’s true consciousness; locked in an abyss-like place. He freed it. Together, grace and his demonic essence broke down the spell, it crumbling like a wall to dust and the vessel stopped moving. Control was now theirs. Or rather, his.

He blinked open the blood filled eyes of what once was Jimmy Novak, staring at the ceiling with the world tinted in red. Injuries sustained from their fight throbbed against his being and he heard whisperings in his mind. They were not his own internal thoughts. They were brash, harsh and painful. They were Castiel. The noises in his head grew louder before they screamed, sending shudders to his very core.

He yelled out as red-hot agony tore through the vessel and his essence, fire and light scolding his insides. He felt the need to escape, but darkness was pulling him into unconsciousness. He attempted to burst out as the angelic grace of Castiel strove for control of the vessel once more... except he was too weak to surge out the meat suit. All the fighting had severely drained him, King of Hell or not. He could not move out the vessel until he had the energy to do so, but the angelic grace continued to rage against him either way.

The agony was pushing him over the edge, and darkness wrapped around him in a comforting embrace… in the end he followed it willingly.

* * *

 

Sam awoke to the smell of ash and smoke. The assaulting scent forced itself up his nose and down his throat, leaving a burning aftertaste. He coughed, his mouth was dry and painful, as his blurry, unfocussed eyes blinked open. They revealed very little, inky shadows in the Impala as the outside was only an orange tinted darkness.

He glanced out the window of the Impala, still in a haze, unaware of his surroundings. Through the window he only saw black scorched ground and the faint flicker of dying flames. He bolted up, brown eyes widening and he scrambled for the door handle. It swung open and he stood on the warm, crunching ground, covered in a layer of thick black ash. The scorched area stretched for miles, for as far as he could see. Everything under the glow of moonlight and orange flickering exhausted blazes, was blackened soil and incinerated infrastructure.

Fear hit him like a truck as he remembered the events of the day: Dean wanting to die, Dean deciding to kill him to save everyone else… His brother’s voice drifting in his ears ‘ _Close your eyes, Sammy_.’

He trembled suddenly, a cold tingle running down his spine, although the air was warm and practically singed. More memories flooded his mind: Death dying, however possible that was? And then the Mark of Cain finally gone… After all the time and pain he had gone through to get rid of it and then it was just gone. A flash of lightning, a yell of pain: Gone!

He flicked through the recollections of the last twenty-four hours… going outside, watching the Darkness rush towards them in an obscene, consuming cloud of, well, darkness. It had engulfed the Impala, forcing its way through the gaps and inside. They had shouted, attempted to fight it off, but how do you fight off a black cloud?

Then he had blacked out to the sound of Dean telling him ‘ _Everything will be okay’_ , but he had heard the terror in his older brother’s voice. That brought him from his trance: _Dean_. He gazed back into the Impala.

Dean was gone!

He clambered inside, his brother was not in the front seat nor back, and he ran around the other side… no footprints. No impressions in the soil. Dean had vanished, disappeared completely… Just gone. He scanned through the pitch black of the night, over the charred ground where there was nothing left. Everything the Darkness had touched was smouldering ash, there was no remnants of the building they had been in either. Only the Impala and Sam remained. That begged another question, why? Why was everything destroyed but him? He pushed it out of his head to focus on the main problem: Dean. Gone. _Where?_

Panic rose from the pit of his stomach as he found himself running in any direction he could, screaming his brother’s name as if by some miracle he could hear him… that he was out there. Only the echo of his own voice replied. ‘ _Dean? Dean… Dean!_ ’ Rebounded around him.

After what felt like hours of yelling, his throat hoarse, dry and faintly smoky, he collapsed to his knees; feeling the warmth of the ash through his jeans.

He heard nothing but the sound of his sniffling as a stream of tears spilled down his cheeks… They had fighting the Mark of Cain for so long that it nearly had consumed Dean once more. Yet, then it was gone and for seconds he felt like the world was back to normal. That the world was right once again. This feeling only lasted for mere seconds…

Then came the rain as some would say, the Darkness rained down upon them or rather washed over them… Why did every good thing they do end in disaster or the world worse off…? It was the apocalypse all over again… Stop Lilith, only to raise Lucifer. Stop Crowley and nearly close the gates of Hell forever for then the angels to fall. Kill Azazel but the Devil’s gate had to open first. Those were only a few of the things that went bad on their account, on a very long list of bad and disastrous.

They could never get a clean win… _One without consequences_.

He stared at the blackened ground, the flames all dwindling now, he was at a loss to what to do… He would normally have asked Dean, in the past Bobby, and even if his brother didn’t know what to do they would figure something out, together. He shivered involuntary, over the last few years they’d had a few times when they weren’t together, it didn’t felt any better when they weren’t, even if deep down Sam knew it actually was. And recently, the whole time when demonic Dean ran off with Crowley or disappeared to hunt down the Stynes… They weren’t right when they were not together… Even though Dean wasn’t exactly himself both those times.

However, once again, fate, God or whatever it was had pulled them apart and he really didn’t know what to do.

“Dean…” He whispered into the twilight air, knowing full well nothing would hear him but the dead ground.

He wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand, slowly rising to his feet. He glared up at the moon as it hung in the deep blue blanket of sky, strangely the stars didn’t seem as bright tonight. They didn’t twinkle as they normally would. He shook his head, his mind wondering, just wanting to be distracted by the fact his brother was gone… Again! No leads whatsoever. He didn’t even know if he was alive, but he pushed that thoughts away. He couldn’t accept that conclusion yet. He had to know for sure.

He blinked any further tears away, turning to walk back to the Impala to go back to the bunker. He would find Dean, he just needed to collect himself first and find out what on Earth they had just released into their Universe.


	2. Face to face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Castiel and Crowley confusion, and Sam travelling back, Bit bland. Hope you enjoy it either way.

Crowley awoke with a groan, his meat suit was aching from the hard floor he lay upon and the injuries he had sustained. He didn’t like the fact he’d blacked out, but he couldn’t help when agony mixed with overexertion. His body felt a little off but he dismissed it as he could deal with it afterwards. His eyes blinked open almost lazily, once they were focused they looked up. He promptly yelped, scrambling backwards.

He was staring into the dark eyes of his usual meat suit, whom was alive and well, if not for the blood stains covering its suit and face. However, his vessel had been long since dead, he had tried to keep it alive at one point for leverage purposes against hunters and the like. Yet, after a few too many stab wounds, gun shots and god knows whatever else the real owner of the body: one Henry Sterling, had moved on… To Hell if he recalled correctly.

So, why was his normal vessel staring him in the face? He was sure he wasn’t dead again or dreaming... He didn’t dream after all. He raised his hand and poked the pristine face hovering above his. The face just glared at him with a sour expression.

He smirked, it was rare he could admire the meat suit he had chosen for so long. A rather roundish face with a stubbly beard at the moment but he was thinking of trimming it. Dark eyes that changed depending on the light, sometimes brown or hazel in the dark but other times they had a blue-greenish tinge. They were sparkling blue-grey at this moment as soft sunlight pushed through the murky windows. Oh, and those thin lips that just fit so well with a smirk too. He really did like this meat suit, he was quite fond of it, but he was getting off track… If his vessel was up and about, whom was _he wearing?_

He looked down to see a blood soaked trench coat and blue tie… Ah, it all made sense… He was wearing Jimmy Novak, Castiel’s chosen vessel. He lifted his foreign fingers and flexed them. They were covered in blood, his actual meat suit’s blood as he recalled the minutes before his blackout. He stretched, it felt strange in a different suit, a bigger one too. He liked his smaller one, it was cosy, and it felt homely in some weird way. With a moan he scrambled onto his new vessels feet almost dizzy at his new height.

His own suit was glaring at him with a concoction of concern and anger. He frowned, he didn’t see concern on his vessels face much.

“Like the suit, eh Castiel? Cosy, isn’t it?” He heard the rumbling tones of Jimmy speak his words, now that just wasn’t right he thought to himself.

“I do not like wearing your vessel, Crowley.  It’s tainted.” Castiel spoke, the typical gruff, rasping voice sounded somewhat lighter when the angel used it. Less deep and rough than normal, it was unusual to say the least. Yet, it was another reason he had taken the meat suit: that raspy Cockney accent just sent shivers down his spine… He loved it.

“Well, that’s just _rude_ … He’s dashing and has this organismic voice… Along with other important things.” His gaze lingered down for a moment and he smirked. ”What’s not to like, Cas?”

“I want my vessel back now, Crowley!” Castiel demanded, his voice rising. The demon bit his lip, enjoying the growling tone far too much. It wasn’t the time to admire himself.

“Right, a trade back then? I think I’ve had enough of feeling what it’s like to be you anyway, way too roomy in here. On the count of three?” The angel just grunted, nodding once. “Three.” Crowley muttered as he burst out of the vessel, crimson smoke bellowing from his mouth. He glimpsed Castiel’s angelic grace swirl out his meat suit’s mouth, their eyes flashing blue just once before it fell to the floor. He stormed towards his suit, thundering down its throat and taking control. When he had control again he clicked his neck side to side, it was aching.

“You’re a pain in the neck… _quite literally_ , Kitten. How many times did you bloody stab it?” He massaged it with his hand, glancing up at Castiel in his righteous vessel. He was getting used to it once again, flexing his hands.

“I could say the same about you.” The angel fired back, but with a slight smile, seemingly happy to hear his right suit’s voice.

Crowley climbed to his feet and clicked his fingers, then breathed deep, fresh suit, cleaned up, no blood and no more holes in him. “Much better. But now, it begs the question Cas, why were you in my meat suit?”

“You were unresponsive in mine, if I had not left… I fear we would have both perished from the conflicting angelic and demonic presences within it.” Castiel crossed his arms, eyeing the demon.

“Well, you gave me no choice but to possess you, Kitten. You weren’t exactly fighting that spell all too well. Would’ve burned you right out while trying to kill me… Which you nearly did _multiple times by the way_ , I deserve an apology for that.”

“Go to Hell, Crowley.” The angel muttered, with no conviction, more annoyed than angry.

“Gladly. Actually, I probably need to. See if removing the Mark caused any problems… You gonna check on the Nightmares in Plaid?” Since awaking something had felt off… at first he had thought it to be being in a different vessel. Yet, the feeling had persisted in his own vessel, something on the supernatural planes. From the knowing look in the angel’s eyes he felt it too.

“I should check on Sam and Dean, yes. There is no telling what consequences the Book of the Damned could cause… But at least the Mark of Cain is gone now.” He said making light of the situation.

“Yes, no more black eyed Squirrel capable of killing anything with ol’ donkey teeth. I can tick that off my _‘ways I won’t die list’_ now. Right, toodles.” He went to snap his fingers but Castiel stopped him, a firm hand wrapping around his wrist. He scowled at the offending hand and was about to make a remark when the angel spoke.

“Wait a moment.” The demon looked up to see an unreadable expression on Castiel’s face.

“Yes, Kitten?” He said wearily, eyeing the hand clinging to his wrist.

The angel’s blue stared at him with slight compassion and gratitude now. “Thank you, for overpowering the spell. If you hadn’t it is obvious we both would have perished. But next time, possess me and I’ll end you.” He let go of the demon, nodding at him.

“Right… Well, on that rather morbid note, you’re welcome, Cas. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on entering your vessel in any way again, all entendres included. Oh, and Castiel, call me next time, 666 is the devil’s number… it’s not hard to forget, even for your thick skull.” With that quip, he snapped his fingers and disappeared leaving the angel alone, slightly confused with the happenings of the last twenty-four hours. He shook his head before vanishing with a flutter of wings.

* * *

 

Sam found himself filling with more and more dread as he neared the Bunker, it was still a mess from the Stynes' raid and Dean’s fight with Cas. He was going to need to clean the place up and reorganise it, but right now wasn’t the time to think about it, whatever state the bunker was in. He needed to find Dean, he had decided it must have been the Darkness that had taken him… with no idea or reason why however.

He had driven for hours, non-stop, to get back to the bunker, he was beyond exhausted, barely running on fumes but he knew he would not sleep. He would do anything in his power to find Dean and then end up collapsing from exhaustion. It’s how it always went when one or the other was in danger. Not to mention he had no idea what the Darkness would do to Dean, this was worse than if he had been captured by demons or angels. The fact was he had no clue what his enemy was in the first place, only whatever drabble Death had told Dean: Some _‘horribly destructive amoral_ _force’_ which was older than time and had to be expelled by God himself… Locked away with the Mark of Cain as key and lock. It scared him that his brother was taken by an evil force that had even worried Death, which God along with archangels had to stop… And now this Darkness was roaming the Earth as well.

With no God about and no archangels alive or available how was they _… No he…_ Meant to stop it. In the end it had been his fault once again that the world was in peril. Just alike when he rose Lucifer with killing Lilith. Ultimately, it had been him who got Charlie to find the Book of the Damned, him who had told Cas to find the ingredients no matter what Dean had said and it was he whom had captured Rowena to cast the spell. It was his fault another world ending monstrosity was wandering about, just waiting to destroy all of creation. Yet, unlike the last apocalypse where there had been rules and they’d known some of Lucifer’s plans which was initially nothing compared to what he believed the Darkness wanted to achieve: Destruction of the Universe. Annihilation of everything that ever existed. He sighed rubbing his tired eyes, he was drawing closer to the bunker now.

He blinked, when his eyes reopened he felt a presence nearby. His eyes switched from the road to the backseats where Castiel was poised with a grim expression. He seemed a little haggard, his posture rigid and on edge. His ocean blue eyes looked at Sam then scanned around the car, his gaze falling on the empty shotgun seat.

“Where is Dean?” His tone had worry seeping through. Sam stayed silent, gaze focussing only on the practically dead highway. The angel waited for a response but after a few moments of nothing, his voice perked up again, this time much more serious. “Sam. _Where is Dean?!_ ”

Sam tore his weary eyes from the road to shoot the angel a look that would solve the question. His face was solemn, sad and lost, he hoped that would give the answer Castiel was seeking. He didn’t want to voice it just yet.

“He’s gone? Dead…? What is it, Sam?”

“Not dead, I think. Missing… I think the Darkness took him.” He shook his head to get any tears to stay hidden and keep himself awake. He didn’t know how long he had been awake now.

“The Darkness…? _What Darkness?!_ ”

“The ‘Darkness’ Darkness? Ancient amoral force locked away by _God himself_ , ever heard of it?” Sam was rather perplexed, he thought it would be something angels should know being it was their father who had vanquished it.

The angel stared vacantly at the road ahead before tilting his head to the side. “Possibly, but many of my memories I believe are still missing from my time with Naomi a few years ago… If I knew of it, it is now gone. What happened? I thought the spell had worked, is this Darkness the aftermath? I have felt something in the higher planes but have been unsure what it is.”

Sam answered in a sharp nod. “Cas, I don’t know anything other than what Death said. And all he said was: it’s this ‘big bad force’ that God and the archangels had to fight. It was shut away someplace with the Mark of Cain as its lock. Now we destroyed the Mark… The Darkness is free… It wants to rip apart the Universe or something like that. I don’t know, Cas. There was a black cloud and then I woke up with Dean gone and everything in a miles radius just ash…” He glanced at the angel in the mirror, watching his features tighten in confusion and worry.

“This is very troubling news, Sam. I will have to inform the angels at once, and find out everything I can. I will return soon.” Sam could tell he was about to leave so stopped him with continued conversation.

“Cas, what happened with Rowena and how did you swing getting those ingredients…? I recall them being almost impossible to get.” The angel’s face soured as he recalled the days he’d had.

“I summoned Crowley, he got the ingredients and Rowena… She escaped, Sam. Nearly killing both me and Crowley in the process.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the demon King, slight hatred flashed across them. “So, _is he dead?_ ” His voice was cold, spiteful.

Castiel frowned at the younger Winchesters surprisingly sudden hate. “No, he’s alive. He saved my life and left for Hell.” Sam scoffed at the statement, generally not believing it but before Castiel could press it, he changed the subject.

“Cas, I need to find my brother at any cost. Dean’s gotta be in this Darkness’s clutches… An enemy we know virtually nothing about. Find out you can from the angels, I will tear through the Bunker’s library, the more we know about this, the more likely we will find Dean.” Sam reasoned with the angel. He received a nod in agreement.

“I’ll return when I have news, for the time being you need to get back and rest. You look like you could pass out, Sam. You’ll be no use to Dean if you can’t stay awake to help him.” With that the angel disappeared, leaving Sam alone with just a long, empty road.

* * *

 

Being in the deserted Bunker was something Sam always hated… He liked knowing his brother was somewhere within the many rooms or passages, or when Kevin was alive he would have someone. Or whenever Charlie was about… Yet, she was gone too. His fault once again. Everyone that got close is extinguished one way or another.

He descended down the metal steps with his head hung low. The Bunker was so very different since the Stynes’ raid, it wasn’t just how the place looked… it was everything. Even the usual scent of dust and old books was replaced with lighter fuel and irony aroma of blood. His eyes flickered up as he reached the bottom of the stairs. A pile of deemed useless items and books were in the centre of the room, his eyes traced the floor spotting numerous brown stains of dried blood… However, the bodies were gone at least. He guessed Castiel may have got rid of them, to which he was grateful. Coming home to rotting corpses would have infinitely made his mood worse.

He picked up an overturned chair, placing it before the mountain of objects. He recognised some as the box of Dean’s things. It was saddening to see. He plucked them off the pile placing them on the table, one such item was a photo of just Dean and Mary. It was dog eared and fading, but the smiles of the two in the photograph were so bright and vibrant: Ultimately happy... It had been a long time since Dean had truly been happy, he was unsure if he’d ever since his brother's smile that bright.

The photo was similar to the pictures he’d used to bring back Dean from the brink… it had stopped him leaving with Death and going into oblivion. Family always was a weak point for Dean, it was for himself too. He would do anything for his brother. Yet, it was never as strong as a weakness as it was for his brother. There had been times where Sam had moved on, but Dean… even with Ben and Lisa, he hadn’t been truly able to move on. He put the photo down, it was not the time to think about that… He needed to find his brother and to do that he needed to research his enemy: the Darkness.

He went to his room, finding his laptop and searched the internet and Bunker’s lore for hours. After what felt like an age of looking, he had found little and fatigue pulled him into a nightmarish sleep.


	3. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Crowley go to their respective realms. Plot may start to pick up a little after this chapter.

When Crowley appeared back in Hell, his domain and home, he was bombarded by a scene of hysterical chattering from his advisors and the worried faces of his demonic subjects. He turned to face the court, some of his minions were arguing, near screaming, some seemed to be at work and others stood almost frozen, unsure what was happening. _It was utter chaos_.

One thing that did happen however was they all ignored his presence and this infuriated him, he was their King and they just ignored him. Many was milling near the back of the round, encircling someone whom was trying to keep some kind of order. He grimaced.

His clicked his fingers before speaking, his voice was amplified and furious, chilling the demons to their cores. It boomed about the court. “ _What in Gods ungracious name is going on here?!_ ” The room descended into silence within seconds as all eyes were on him.

“Your majesty... Where have you been?” One adviser asked almost accusingly.

“There’s chaos sire and you’ve been unreachable!” Another said with a surge of confidence, no longer fearing that he was the addressing the King in such a manner.

“Yeah, you just disappeared like two days ago and left us to this…” Yet another demon added gesturing to the unruliness around him.

Crowley didn’t like the fact his subjects were so quick to turn on him, to blame him, he couldn’t help the last forty-eight hours. The fact was he still didn’t know what was wrong. He had a feeling, something major was conflicting with the higher planes, but that was all he knew. He swirled to face all of his subjects, few were fearful while others were unfazed, unafraid that he was their King and could kill them with a snap of fingers. He did not like that. He sat on his throne, his dark eyes sweeping over the disobedient room.

“Somebody bloody explain then… _Now!_ ” He demanded, his eyes flashing crossroad red for emphasis. Many advisors looked at each other, almost confused that the King was uninformed of events.

“You don’t know what’s happened, do you?” One demon asked as she looked up from inspecting her nails. She was unconcerned by his presence, leaning leisurely against the back wall, surrounded by five advisors whom she had previously been talking to. His eyes narrowed at her so crude assumption, not addressing him as she should. However, on closer examination he realised whom was speaking to him with such a defiant manner, his rage simmered slightly… This was no lowly demon.

“ _Makayla_ … darling. Helping out, are we? I don’t remember asking you to.” He said in a measured tone, slightly hesitant to respond. She was one demon that did have some power compared to the rest of the simple company.

She pushed herself off the wall, sauntering over to the King. Her vessel’s short spiked up hair bouncing as she did, her brown eyes were vicious and lips twisted into a sick smirk. Yet, even with this look she managed to seem completely relaxed approaching the King.

“Well, Crowley… If the King was around to control his own kingdom in chaos then I wouldn’t need to be here, _would I now?_ ” She flashed a sly smile while her own crossroads crimson blinked open. Before he could reply, she cut over him.

“So when the King’s out and about, the Queen has to take over, right? These advisers of yours aren’t particularly the brightest bunch. Sorry, but it’s so very true.” She motioned to the silent advisors, some looked away in shame while a few just glared at her, saying nothing.

“The Queen of the Crossroads does not rule nor influence Hell’s governing… This is my kingdom, you should know your place Makayla.” He growled while the room watched the pissing match with various states of interest. King of Hell vs Crossroads Queen was a particular match, being the two most powerful demons in Hell nowadays. Now there were no Knights of Hell or first demon living anymore.

“Well, you didn’t really leave it in good hands then… These idiots just want to stick their heads in the sand while some powerful force runs amok destroying the surface. Scouts reported it can kill anything, consumed an angel, for Heaven's sake... and a whole bunch of our scouts. Even a small town. This thing, whatever it is, doesn’t discriminate… We need to keep an eye out or do something. Not to mention the other hundred and one problems down here: disappearing demons, traitors and all the rest. Do your bloody job and stop disappearing!”

Crowley’s brows funnelled at the news but he scowled at her tone. “I am doing my bloody job, now go and do yours!” The court was still quiet, looking at the two arguing like children. Then the King thought over everything else she’d said: What was the Crossroads Queen on about? “ _What powerful force?_ When did it appear? What is it?”

“Sometime yesterday… there were freak lightning storms then there was this black cloud. You want to know where it started too, right where the Winchesters were!”

The King’s eyes blinked to hide his surprise, this was very disturbing news. This was the obvious repercussions of getting rid of the Mark. “Typical. Hmm… I know why this ‘dark cloud’ is here though I have no idea what it is. Has anything been picked up from Angel radio? What else did scouts report, Makayla?”

“I’m not your lapdog, Crowley. I have the Crossroads to run. If you want to know what’s happening ask the only surviving scout yourself…” She clicked her fingers and a ragged, exhausted looking demon appeared. She shoved him forward roughly. “ _Your King wants a word_.” She growled.

“Now, if you don’t mind… I’ll leave you to sort out the chaos, as of course little Queen of the Crossroads isn’t appreciated when she helps.” With that she sent a feral look at the King and disappeared. Crowley wanted to summon her back and demand she show him respect but he didn’t have the time nor energy to deal her, this ‘darkness’ seemed ultimately troubling. He hummed in thought as the scout relayed the event of the previous day, and with each minute he became more and more worried.

* * *

 

Castiel appeared in the slice of Heaven he had long ago claimed as his own, where once he had found the constant Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man peaceful, content at watching the man fly his kite… Now after his massacres in Heaven, he could still remember the hundreds of dead angels littering the ground and the scorched wings burnt into the grass. It had all been by his hand, and while there was now no evidence of the fights that had ensued, the faces of the many dead flashed before his eyes.

Heaven did not feel welcoming anymore. It did not feel homely.

Even when he returned once the gates reopened, Metatron’s heaven felt the same… Different, wrong and that he didn’t belong as did when Hannah had reformed it. This hadn’t been his home in a long time.

It only took moments for someone to appear, a familiar face but not a happy one: Hannah. It was strange seeing her male vessel after the time they had spent together. Her vessel’s dark eyes seemed annoyed and betrayed.

“So you return, Castiel?” She asked crossing her arms loosely. Three other angels materialised behind her, acting as guards. They were on the defensive.

“Hannah.” He greeted with a nod, rather awkwardly. The last time they had been together they had not got on particularly well. He glanced around to shake it off. “I hear Heaven is in good working order.” Metatron had said it was running almost as smoothly since God opened the pearly gates, or something similar. It did feel to be in natural order… It had not felt like this in years.

“It is as well as it can be. I see you have your grace back.” She eyed him with low brows. There was a pause. “Why are you here, Castiel? Last you were in Heaven, you caused us trouble.”

Castiel gazed at the ground, as if disappointed in himself and he still imagined wings singed into the dirt. “Ah, yes… I apologise for that, but I needed him for knowledge on the Mark of Cain and in the end he led me to my grace.”

“Where is Metatron now?” The tone was stern, weary.

Castiel weighed up his options: if he should tell the truth or not, if he said Metatron was missing Hannah would be enraged while if he said the former Scribe was in his custody somewhere she would demand for him back. In the end he thought the truth was easier than a lie. “He is missing, but he is human now. I took his grace to bargain with him.”

“You did what…? _The Scribe is human but lost_?” Hannah sounded near horrified.

“Yes, that is basically it.” He shrugged.

Hannah was becoming very irritated. She turned to issue a command to one of her guards, then faced the angel. “You caused much grief last you were here. Your actions effected many others, Castiel. We had to punish your acquaintance for helping you.”

Castiel perked up at that, mouth falling open slightly. “What did you do?” He demanded.

“We had to erase Bobby Singer’s memory. He remembers nothing of the event or himself even and now has a constant guard on him. When you try to be righteous Castiel, you cause problems for others. I am guessing you have had a hand with the Darkness.”

His brows funnelled over his blue eyes. “You know about the Darkness? What do you know of it?”

“We know both very much and very little at once. This is why you have come? Not to apologise but for help… knowledge?”

“Yes, this Darkness… I know nothing of it. None of us knew of the consequences of removing the Mark of Cain. It has taken Dean…” The other angel’s face soured at the mention of the name.  

“Some angels remember stories of the Darkness, the ones unaffected by the former Intelligence division. Naomi’s tampering with all our minds caused us to forget much. I’m sure you know this.” Castiel nodded. “Castiel, if you want to know about it, work with us in this matter… I must have a promise you will not rebel against us as you have before. You are a _problem maker_. Getting rid of the Mark of Cain, Metatron’s escape, the angels falling… Your road to good intentions cost us all dearly, Castiel.”

The reminder made the angel hang his head in shame. Her words were true and he knew it. He looked up into Hannah’s brown unyielding eyes and nodded. “I am on the side of Heaven. I will do what Heaven requires.” He spoke truth, he tried to be on Heavens side and will so again, they were his brothers, sisters… his family. He owed them his loyalty.

“Good. Come this way then, we will inform you of what we know.”

* * *

 

The group of angels transported to the room Metatron had formerly used as his office, it was now refurbished and Hannah used it as hers. The room had two angels awaiting, ones he recognised but they just eyed with a mixture of uncertainty and distrust.

Hannah settled standing behind the desk while the one of her guard disappeared, which left five angels including himself in the room. He did not recognise the angel that had travelled with her, he was silent and unmoving, his eyes cautious but still. Hannah gestured towards him.

“This is Zachriel.” She introduced. Cogs turned in Castiel’s mind as he recognised the name, though not the vessel and form but before his mind formed any conclusions the said angel interrupted him.

“Angel of Memory, and apparently the only one with a good one.” He muttered.

“Yes, _thank you_.” Hannah said a little strained as if she was dealing with a child. “Zachriel is an angel whom was not affected by the former Intelligence Division’s tampering.”

“All my memories are still intact, lucky me.” He crossed his arms, in a rather defiant manner, especially for an angel. “The Good, the Bad and the Monstrous. I remember it all.”

“Will you repeat what you know for Castiel and the company here?” Hannah requested.

He shrugged. “You’ll only ask me again and again… I may as well get used to it.”

Castiel frowned at the rather mouthy angel, it was rare trait amongst his kind . “Enlighten us, Zachriel.”

“Right, right. What I know of the Darkness is from the Archangels. Over the years both Michael and Raphael didn’t really mention it, seemed irrelevant to them. Yet, Gabriel did… before he disappeared to only our Father knows where. He used to tell a so called ‘bedtime story’ of the ‘great, evil Primordial Darkness’ that the Archs and God fought near the start of creation. In a time where there was only Father, the Archangels and the big ol' Darkness as Gabriel put it. It took all the might of the Archangels combined with God to defeat this Darkness and lock it away someplace. I’m guessing other dimension or realm God created. They didn’t specify. It was locked with the Mark of Cain, which God gave to Lucifer… Bad choice there… Really, should have kept it himself. Lucifer couldn’t resist the Mark of Cain, leading to his corruption. We all think Luci was bad to the bone, but it was the Mark of Cain that pushed him to such lengths of evil. Pushed him over the edge so he was kicked out.” As Castiel listened to the angel he couldn’t help think of Gabriel, his big brother would of course be the one flashing fancy heroic tales about, true or not, it was so alike him. For some reason, Zachriel also reminded him of Gabriel: his witty mannerisms made him think that Zachriel may have spent time around the former archangel.

“That’s the story Gabriel always told but he did mention that it was the actual power of the Archangels and their blades that helped defeat it, that common angels would not be able to what they had done. Something about light too, Darkness hates light and all that, just the obvious. But the Archs had our Father on their side so I have no idea how we could defeat it now. Unless he wants to appear to help before his creation is nearly destroyed _again_.”

“Do you have anything else? Ways of combating this?”

“Well they had God, we obviously don’t.” He huffed.

“So we have no other ways of fighting it? No God, no Archangels… We’ve already lost?” Castiel said solemnly, eyes cast to the ground. God was gone and the only two remaining archangels were in the cage… Nothing they could do but watch the world die?

“I _mostly_ agree with that. But not all the Archangels are in the ground.”

“We cannot free Lucifer and Michael, another apocalypse would ensue and they’d likely just ignore the Darkness to fight each other.”

“Now, that’s where you are wrong, my friend.” He said with an almost childlike grin. “You assume those are the last Archangels. There are more than four Archangels, brother… There are seven. It seems everyone has overlooked the last three, maybe Intelligence didn’t want them remembered... Encase they wanted to take over after Raphael? I don't really know?”

“There has always been four: Michael and Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel. I know nothing of another three.”

“Depends on the books you read… Bible is a bit vague, wrong on that account.” The angel smirked.

“Who are the other Archangels then?”

“Ramiel, Raguel and Sariel. _The forgotten three..._ ”

Castiel looked up with slight awe, there was hope.

 


	4. We all have ranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very 'talky-talky' dialogue heavy chapter. I have problems with that sometimes. Mainly introducing two new characters.

“Ramiel, Raguel and Sariel? I’ll agree I cannot recall those names.” Castiel muttered, inwardly angry and cursing Naomi and the Intelligence division for erasing his memories. Memories which now would prove vital.

“Yeah, well. I escaped all that mind control crap Naomi did. Guess you could say I’m lucky, huh? But now I have the knowledge to help everyone… which is not that fun. Never liked the _limelight_.” Zachriel shrugged to himself.

“So, where are they? Shouldn’t they be here helping with the Darkness?” He quizzed.

“That’s the problem, brother. All three are missing. One is confirmed to be in Heaven, where is the issue, while Ramiel disappeared in the fall, according to Zachriel and several others, he is not here, and Raguel vanished centuries ago. I believe he left after a disagreement with Michael. The fact is, all three are unaccounted for… We need your help locating them, Castiel.” Hannah urged, her tone deadly serious.

“Of course, you need not ask, Hannah. Do we have all of the angels looking for them? What is the Host doing?”

“There are great many things to do. We are tracking the Darkness’s whereabouts, countless angels are looking for Sariel in Heaven while others are researching leads for the others. Yet, we have nothing on the others as of yet.”

“That leaves Ramiel and Raguel?”

“Yes, and I was hoping you could look for them on the surface. You work well on the ground, and know it much better than most angels. We can help research while you investigate possibly sightings or locations. You were good at finding the renegade angels when you worked alongside me. I feel you are suited to the task.”

“I can look for them on the ground.” Castiel agreed with a tilt of his head.

“ _Good._ Castiel, despite your tribulations in the past I am willing to let it all pass if you wholly serve Heaven again. If you succeed in finding the missing Archangels, all discrepancies will be forgotten. We will allow you back with open arms, but only if you remember you serve Heaven, _not the Winchesters_. I know they usually conflict with our interests but I am sure we can unite on this cause.”

“I do serve Heaven, Hannah. You know I do.” He cocked his head to the side with a frown on his lips. The other angel’s words unnerved him, as if there were underlying threats in her speech.

“That I am glad. I just needed to check, Castiel, as some of your actions make many others doubt your allegiance to the Host. We all need reassurance now and again.” There was a brief pause as Hannah thought over her next words. “For your search on the surface, I have some angels to assist you.” She pointed to the last two angels in the room, whom had remained silently vigilant the whole conversation. One was tall with a military look about them, close cropped hair, sharp eyes and a solid stance, definitely a soldier. The other was quite the opposite, much shorter, about five feet five, with a very skinny frame, almost fragile looking with cautious but kind green eyes that kept flickering from one angel to the next. Unlike his companion he did not have a soldier vibe. “You know Puriel and Eli?”

“Yes, I do.” He nodded towards the pair to which he got a bowed heads in return.

“They will help you find the others but we do not have many angels to spare at this moment. I trust I have not misplaced them in your care?”

“No, you haven’t Hannah.”

“Good, we will report if we have news as should you. And Castiel, good luck.” With that she turned her attention to the papers on her desk; Castiel glanced at Zachriel leaning on the edge with arms crossed, he looked effectively bored. With that he left the room with his two angelic followers strolling behind him.

* * *

 

_The President has said that these attacks were not made by the U.S military, and they are investigating what and who are responsible for these bombings. Terror alert has been said to have risen. Also, several terrorist groups have claimed to have caused these attacks, Al-Qaeda being one of them._

_On another note, numerous scientists have told us that they believe these may not be fire bombs as first thought and have theorised these are a new type of bioweapon. These claims are however still being explored._

_In other news…_

Sam turned off the video, he had already heard the same story on two or three different news websites now. Not to mention he had been there while the Darkness had destroyed everything in its path, minus himself and the Impala. He pushed away his laptop, standing and stalking over to the kitchen for a bite to eat. Since waking up he had jumped straight back into research on the Darkness but he found little of use, and attempted to find a way to track Dean, accumulating a number of spells after he realised modern day methods would not work.

After hunted through the shelves and fridge, he settled with some leftovers, there was little else. He wandered into the library only to stop dead as two creatures appeared in the room. He dropped his food instantly, grabbing his gun and aiming at the closest being. Unsure if it was angel, demon or whatever else.

“Who are you? What do you want?!” He wavering his aim, switching from one target to another. The taller being quirked a brow, saying nothing while the other put up his hands in a surrender gesture.

“We mean no harm.” The shorter said in a small, uneven tone.

“Who are you? How’d you get in?” Sam still didn’t back down, his voice growing louder. There was a breeze behind him and he swerved around, about to shoot out of instinct. Only to stop short as he noticed Castiel there. Sam’s eyes widened as Cas cocked his head.

“Ermm… Sam, you can put the gun away.”

“Cas, what’s going on? They angels?” He lowered the barrel but left the safety off, still was on edge.

Cas looked passed Sam’s form in the door to gaze at the others. His eyebrows raised. “Oh.” He said simply.

“Oh?” Sam looked close to losing it. “ _Well?_ Oh doesn’t cut it.”

“They were meant to arrive after me, so I could explain. Seems there may have been miscommunication.” The shorter being bowed his head looking embarrassed for a moment.

“ _And?_ Why are they here?” He had put his gun away but was clearly prepared to attack any second.

“These are angels, from Heaven, under my command.” Cas paused, watching the rigid posture of the Winchester. “Sam, do not worry. They are here with me.” The angel walked up the human, placing a semi-comforting hand on his shoulder. It did little to ease his stress. “This is Eli and Puriel. They are here to help with the Darkness. Eli and Puriel, this is Sam Winchester.”

The taller grimaced, tone icy and unfeeling. “I know. It would be stupid not to recognise Lucifer’s vessel.”

“Be nice, Puriel. This human has sacrificed a lot in his small life. He has done much for his fellow humans.” The other said, swatting him on the arm which he gained a growl in response and promptly jumped back in shock. After composing himself he gazed at Sam, eyes the deepest green. “I am Eli, nice to meet you, Mr Winchester.”

“Right… It’s just Sam. Why has Heaven given you angels _to command_ , Cas?” He turned to Castiel with an unreadable expression.

“As we are hunting Archangels to combat the Darkness.” He said as if it was the most simple of things.

“Right…” This was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

“ _More Archangels?_ ” Sam questioned with wide eyes. His mind stalled as he remembered his interactions of each of the previous Archangels: from the human-hating Lucifer, hell bent on destroying humankind; to the righteous older brother Michael; to Raphael, Castiel’s former nemesis, who helped cause an angelic civil war and traditionalist also wanting the apocalypse and then Gabriel… the Trickster. An angel whom had a strange set of morals and yet had fought for against his brothers for the sake of humanity. The idea of there being more near-impossible-to-kill angels with unimaginable powers roaming about made the Winchester ultimately more worried, the Darkness, his brother’s disappearance and now Archangels… life just kept getting better.

“Yes.” Castiel affirmed with a nod.

“Three more?”

“Yes.”

“More than four?”

“Yes…” Cas was obviously getting a little annoyed with the repetition but continued for his friends benefit.

“Are humans usually this _slow_?” Puriel asked, his arms crossed and glaring at everything in his sighs. Everyone turned to look at him with a similar expression conveying ‘ _shut the hell up’_ , he promptly did with a huff.

“So, you are the only angels on Earth hunting for two for the three Archangels?”

“Apparently, yes. Heaven is focusing on finding Sariel. Then they will turn their attention on the rest. Heaven is researching as we will but we will investigate any likely areas.”

“Heaven could only spare three angels? That’s a little pathetic if you ask me.”

“There are not an unlimited number of angels. Your kind may breed like rabbits _but we do not_. Over the recent years we have lost many. If two is all that can be spared you should be grateful, human.”

Sam growled, stepping up to the angel whom was actually his own height. He was about to spit out a resort when Castiel held him back. His gravelly voice turned cold and commanding as he addressed the taller angel. “Puriel we need to speak at once. Eli, inform Sam of what we know.” With that he placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder and they simultaneously vanished.

Eli and Sam stood in silence for a few minutes. Sam’s rage was rolling off him in waves so he stalked out the room after a while.

Ten minutes later he returned with some more food and glanced around to find Eli sitting at the table with a few tomes in front of him, he had a book in hand. He identified it by one glance, it was the Bible. He quirked a brow as he wandered over.

“You’re reading the Bible?”

The angel tore his gaze from the book. He placed it down. “Oh, yes. Is that a problem?” He seemed weary.

“No, I just thought you’d already read it by now. Not really what I expected you to read.”

A brief smiled flittered across the angels face. “No, I have never had the time to read it. Though some seems a little outlandish even for us.”

“So, it’s wrong?” Sam sat opposite the other, seemingly amused by the angel’s musings.

“A little idolised, some details mixed up. Interesting nonetheless.” He hummed, pausing before swiftly changing the subject. “You will have to forgive Puriel, he is a soldier of Heaven, but not the most understanding of angels. The fall was not good to him, though it was distressing for every angel.”

Sam looked up. “ _The fall._ You fell?”

“All angels were expelled but not all fell in the sense of falling. I was already on the ground.”

“Hmm… Lucky break then? Not many angels tend to be out of Heaven. Why was you?”

“No, I was not necessarily lucky. It was just as painful.” He looked away with a grim expression as he clearly reviewed his memories.

“Oh, sorry. I wouldn’t know.” He half-shrugged his apology.

“You wouldn’t, no. To answer your question: I was working. I am a cupid.”

Sam gaped. “You’re a cupid?”

“Ah, yes…” His brows funnelled at the reaction. “Is that hard to believe?”

“Heaven sent a cupid and a human-hating angel to find the archangels? You must be pretty desperate up there.”

“Puriel does not hate humans, he just did not have good experiences when on Earth. Yet, he is a very good soldier.” He rationalised with a reassuring voice.

“He could still work on his _interactions_.”

“I am sure Castiel can help him with that.”

Sam snorted and then it turned into a laugh to which the angel smiled mildly. “Cas isn’t the best with social interactions either.”

“Well, maybe I will speak to them both?” He tilted his head in thought.

Sam shook his head as his chuckles dies down. “Doubt you'll be any better.”

“You will be surprised. My job requires interactions between humans and myself. I think I may have more experience with conversation and social graces.” Eli reasoned.

“Maybe. You've held this conversation relatively easy, I guess. So, why would Heaven send you? You get the shortest straw?”

He hummed at the statement at first. “No, no straws were involved." Sam rolled his eyes, maybe he'd been wrong. "The fact is I know Ramiel well. I was not chosen at random. Before he disappeared, Ramiel and I could be what you call _friends_.” He frowned at the book in front of him.

“Angels don’t normally act like they could have friends.”

“We can have friendships, Sam. There are some similarities between our two species. Angels may be older and live in another realm but we all were created by the same Father.”

“It sounds ermm... _weird_ when you put it that way.” He chucked nervously, awkwardly. “Maybe we should focus on the apocalyptic thing that could kill us all.”

“Yes, that would be best.”

* * *

 

A demon appeared at the centre of a crossroads, it was in the middle of nowhere, not usually a great place for business but he was summoned either way. His eyes flickered around the darkness of the roads, he was alone... Strange. There was no being in sight, just the mist and gloom that surrounded his feet. He spun around, evaluating the situation; the bastard must have bolted after realising what he was doing. The crossroads demon huffed, it had been a waste of time, his _precious time_. He glanced around into the night, there was only one solitary street lamp and then corn fields for as far as the eye could see. So, really he was nowhere useful.

He muttered out a curse into the chilly air, before willing himself away... Only to realise he couldn’t.

“Huh?” He looked at the ground to see under the mist was red lines painted into the ground. Not good. Still, not one was about. The air was deadly silent, only a small breeze brushed over his meat suit. He huffed again, crossing his arms. He was powerless and trapped and the people hadn’t even bothered to appear yet. Just rude.

“Hello?! Seriously guys, I don’t have all day. _So gank me or let me go._ ” His voice hissed. He was not amused.

“How about neither…” He heard the guttural tone before he actually felt the presence behind him. He was hit in the back of the head before he could even turn around, blacking out then and there. He crumpled, and the only reason he didn’t collapse to the floor was because of strong foreign arms that wrapped around him; it was not a comforting embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Any spelling or grammar mistakes tell me so I can correct them. Also, tags and warnings will likely change as we go along. Only thing you really ever need to worry about it violence and torture really, but personally I don't think I go too far or even that graphic. Most violence in the future will most likely be similar to the first chapter.


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